Like the Daily Mail, the movies these days seem to be having their doubts about single parenthood. It's not so much lone mums who're getting it in the neck; it's solo dads. We've learned from Kick-Ass and Hanna that a girl brought up by a devoted but unpartnered father may well turn into a merciless mass-murderer. Yet, it appears, even worse outcomes are possible.

In "Greek weird wave" curio Attenberg, young Marina foregoes the companionship of her peers and normal girlish pursuits like binge drinking and Facebook bullying. Instead, her terminally ailing begetter allows her to become fixated on the wildlife oeuvre of Sir David Attenborough (or "Attenberg" as her untutored Attic ears miss-hear his moniker). The result is that, in the words of one of Sir David's voiceovers, she "escapes the human condition" and comes to see homo sapiens as an alien species to be observed from the outside, just as her small-screen mentor observes his gorillas.

If so, liberation from the surly bonds of convention turns out to prompt much activity that seems entirely purposeless. Marina works hard at perfecting variations on the silly walks conceived by Monty Python, and, it has to be said, surpasses John Cleese in both dexterity and choreography. She does animal impressions, which are also excellent. She devises elaborate ways of waggling her shoulder blades, and goes in for spitting competitions with her only friend Bella, though these pursuits are somewhat less endearing.

Sir David himself might find this conduct puzzling. He tends to explain the behaviour he observes as the product of inherited imperatives naturally selected for their evolutionary efficacy. Attenberg, on the other hand, gives the impression that a human consciousness shaped without society's manual would be a blank slate, to be populated by random impulses rather than biological exigency.

Both wildlife and arthouse film-makers tend to consider the most significant terrain to be that of courtship, coupling and coition. So how does this stuff look to a girl devoid of the expectations that others absorb from family, chums and culture? Once again, the gap left by nurture goes unfilled by the dictates of nature.

Marina spurns everything to do with reproduction. She disdains the idea of something pumping inside her like a piston. She doesn't like penises. The point of kissing eludes her, even after Bella has given her the benefit of a slobbery tutorial. On the other hand, she enjoys imagining her father naked, though he himself points out that the incest taboo serves a biological purpose.

Are we therefore to take Attenberg as a celluloid challenge to the role in human behaviour that's been allocated to instinct? Such an exercise would be timely, since evolutionary determinism seems to be going out of favour. Unfortunately, it's hard to find Marina's conduct the slightest bit convincing. Anyway, the film itself ends up muddying the waters.

Eventually, Marina succumbs, sort of, to what the rest of us think of as normality, just like so many of the big screen's other wayward maidens. Sadly, no explanation is provided for this metamorphosis. Deeply buried genetic reality may be asserting itself at last, or unaccountable personal agency may still be in the driving seat. We're no further forward.

Perhaps, of course, Attenberg's elusive meaning is actually to be sought elsewhere. Tsangari herself seems open to other readings. One interviewer asked the director if her film deals with the economic and political problems that are currently besetting Greece. She replied that she hadn't set out to make a film about her homeland; nonetheless, "Greece has lost her dad and her virginity and now she's ready to really grow up." Just like Marina!